White Noise
by Autumn37
Summary: Young Emma's patience is often tested when it comes to her autistic little brother.


**I originally deleted this, but I put it back up per request. Enjoy :)**

* * *

"Emma!" My mom bellows from the second level. Sliding open the bathroom door with a hairbrush in hand, I peer out into the loft. My mom stands at the top of the stairs, holding a white thermal out to me.

"Your brother would like for you to wear this shirt today." I scrunch my nose in repulsion, but inwardly sigh as I take in my mom's pleading look. Her hair a bit unkempt, wearing a blouse and pajama pants. I gaze down at the purple flannel I carefully picked out the night before and groan.

"Okay." She balls up the shirt and tosses it to me. With the thermal in hand, I disappear behind the door once more.

Minutes later, my dad serves me _Froot Loops_ in a bowl as I perch myself on a barstool. The house is quiet. Too quiet if you ask me, but if there is too much noise the screaming begins. So I settle for a peaceful silence, and shovel a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

"Nice shirt." I smirk. He looks down at his white T-shirt and back up at me with a shrug. I smile and shake my head.

"Where is your brother?" He asks.

"Upstairs, maybe?"

"Neal!" Dad shouts. "Breakfast."

Soon, my little brother comes barreling down the stairs. He wears a white beanie that covers most of his short blonde hair, a white sweater, white jeans, and white Converse. He speeds through the living room and parks himself beside me. We then go through our morning routine; he smiles and says good morning before looking distastefully at my blue jacket and denim jeans. Followed by asking Dad for some _Kix_ , which Dad always has on hand because he will not eat any other cereal.

"Emma?" My brother says in a quaint voice. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah?" I respond with my mouth full, chewing rather loudly.

"Yes." He corrects me, waiting for Dad to pour his milk.

"Yes?" I sigh. He carefully puts his hand in his pocket. He pulls out a bracelet that is made with several letter beads, and hands it to me.

"I made it for you in class yesterday," He says. "but you weren't home when I came back from Archie's." I take the bracelet in hand and inspect it. It was obviously made by an eight-year-old because the elastic is tied clumsily. The letters spell out, "Emma Swan Nolan," making it way too big for my wrist, but I smile anyway and pocket it.

"Thank you." I pat his head, which makes him whine in response. Dad makes a "ch" sound to catch his attention, and shakes his head. My brother slumps in his chair and folds his arms. Dad raises an eyebrow at him, and Neal sighs. He picks up the spoon and fills it with the puff cereal.

"You're welcome." He grumbles and I smirk. Mom enters the room wearing a white blouse and black pencil skirt, while trying to fasten an earring in her left lobe.

"Good Morning." She greets, giving Dad a peck before turning to us. "Almost ready?" We both nod. "Alright then, let's go! Scoot!"

"Mom?" Neal says, as we hop off the stools.

"Yes, baby?" Mom asks, gathering her things into her giant teacher's bag. Neal holds his finger to his lips, indicating that she is being too loud. She smiles gently and places a hand on his shoulder before guiding him to the door. I follow, picking up my backpack, which is kept by the door, and swing it over my shoulder.

"Will you be home early tonight?" Mom asks Dad, helping Neal into his white slicker.

"Yes ma'am, four-thirty on the dot." Dad smiles cheekily as he makes his way over and playfully tugs at the hood of my jacket. He wraps his arm around me and places a kiss in my hair. He holds his hand out to my brother, who places his hand against Dad's and hugs it with his thumb. "See you later, Buddy."

"Bye Dad." Neal says, disappearing through the front door.

"Hey!" Mom calls out to him. "Stay close, honey!" She gives Dad one more kiss on the cheek before following Neal's lead and guiding me out the door.

Once we are about a block away from our house, Mom gasps loudly, scaring the life out of me. "What?!" I shout irately, while Neal covers his hears.

"I forgot! I have to go to the copy place and pick up the worksheets for class today." Mom explains, placing a hand on her forehead. She adjusts her bag on her shoulder and looks around as if the universe would give her a plan. She snaps her fingers and places a hand on my shoulder, causing me to inwardly groan because I know exactly where this is going. "Emma, honey…" She begins.

"I'll walk him to school." I say. She smiles apologetically and leans down to kiss my cheek. "You are the best daughter anyone could ask for."

"Yeah, yeah." I brush her off. "Just know that the seventh grade dance is coming up soon, and I going to need in ally to help me get Dad to let me go." She laughs and caresses my cheek.

"Be careful, okay?" I nod. "Listen to your sister, okay Neal?" Neal doesn't respond because he is fixated on watching a squirrel climbing a tree. "Neal." Mom grabs his chin and forces him to meet her eyes. "Be good."

"Okay." He whines, pulling his head from her grasp. She nods and speedily walks off in the direction of the store.

I look over at my brother, who has now found a new fascination in crunching the dead leaves with his shoes. I reach down and grab his gloved hand before pulling him into step with me.

"Wait!" He cries, but I don't listen. We are late enough as it is, we don't have time to stop and climb a tree or count how many cracks are in the sidewalk. "Emma, wait! Please!"

I blow a lock of hair out of my face before looking down at his tear-filled eyes. "What?" I softly ask.

"My Walkman." He tells me. "I need my Walkman." Spinning him around a bit roughly, I reach into his white backpack and take out a white Walkman. I place the headphones on his head and press play as I hand it to him.

Ever since Neal was a baby, lullabies never worked. He word shriek and scream whenever Mom would sing or play a song for him. The only thing that calmed him down was to play the static white noise that comes from the A.M. radio. So now whenever we are out and about, or when he feels anxious, we play him the tape.

He grabs my hand and calmly walks beside me. It almost seems as if for the rest of the walk to school we will not have any setbacks. That is until we pass the movie theatre and Neal sets his eyes on the _Back to the Future II_ promotional poster. He suddenly sprints toward the building, leaving me with the only option of running after him.

"Emma, we have to go inside!" He tells me, pulling down his headphones and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Not today." I shake my head. "We have school in a few minutes." It is as if my existence is irrelevant because he immediately runs to the ticket office and knocks on the glass.

"Hello?" He shouts through the money slot. "I would like to buy a ticket to _Back to the Future II_!" I reach down and grab his arm, spinning him around to face me.

"Neal, the movies aren't open yet. Plus, we are going to get into a lot of trouble if we don't go to school right now." I try to explain to him, but his eyebrows furrow.

"But I want to watch the movie now." He argues.

"But it isn't open right now." I gently say. He turns back around and knocks harder on the glass.

"HELLO!" He shouts, causing other people to look in our direction. I slump my shoulders, a bit embarrassed, and tap his shoulder.

"Dude. Neal. We have to go buddy."

"No." He stomps his foot and folds his arms over his chest.

"Come on Neal, don't do this today." I cringe, but he doesn't move. "Please, let's go." His eyes begin to fill with tears as he stomps his foot again. He starts to pound on the glass with both fists and I don't know what to do.

"Hey look, it's snowman freak!" I hear someone yell behind me. I spin around and see Peter and his group of friends laughing at us, like they always do. Instantly, I feel my body fill with rage.

"Shut up!" I shout, marching up to him with balled fists. "What kind of heartless jerk are you to pick on a kid half your size?" He has about three inches on me, but I don't let that deter my intimidation tactic. He scoffs at me before making another few jokes about my little brother, and before I know it, he is on the ground as I pound my fists into his face.

"Say it again jerk!" I scream. "Say it again!" I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I can't stop myself from hitting his forearms as he covers his face, nose already bleeding.

"Emma!" I hear a small voice call. "Emma!" Someone tugs on my jacket, which leads me to getting off of Peter and turn around to face Neal. His eyes are wide, mixed with surprise and fear. I look around and notice several of the neighborhood kids congregated around me.

"Mom is going to be mad because you got into another fight." He tells me, holding tightly to the wires that hang by his neck. My face falls at the declaration and I step away from Peter and his friends. Peter holding his face as he cries, I think I might have broken his nose. Everyone is silent.

"It's okay." I tell him in a soft voice. "Let's go to school." I place the headphones back on his ears and motion for him to press play, which he does. He leads the way out of the circle, everyone parting as he makes his way through.

"Good job, Emma." I hear someone say.

"Yeah, good job Emma." Soon I feel a ton of hands patting my back as I emerge from the flock. My brother a few feet away from me as I follow, rubbing my newly sore knuckles.

As the distance between the two of us expands, I speed up to catch up with him and take his gloved hand in mine. He looks up at me with a toothy grin and his blue eyes smiling as he listens to the white noise sounding in his ears.

"I love you, dork." I laugh. He doesn't say anything. He can't hear me, and even if he could he wouldn't say it back. I inhale and exhale to steady my breathing.

Ten minutes later, we approach his classroom where his teacher stands by the door, greeting each student as they enter. Before we can even get there, Neal rushes ahead of me, past the mustard metal door, and into the classroom without another word.

"Oh that's cool." I sarcastically say to no one in particular. "I don't need a 'bye'." His teacher, Miss Adams, giggles at my dramatics.

"Oh Emma." She smiles. I peer through the open door and watch as my brother places his backpack on the back of his chair. He then sets his Walkman beside his nametag before picking up his pencil and writing feverishly on the piece of paper that had been previously placed on his desk. I grin widely in Miss Adam's direction.

"Well, that's Neal alright."


End file.
